


hands colored with you

by orphan_account



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 00:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jinyoung's planned for his entire college experience to consist of paint splatters on his jeans and unhealthy amounts of caffeine, and as far as he's concerned, anything involving either kissing booths or Park Jihoon is going to ruin that agenda.Maybe it's not so bad, though. As much as Jinyoung hates to admit it, any inch closer to Lee Daehwi is an inch well worth it.





	hands colored with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pogniscrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pogniscrow/gifts).



“I’ve lost my faith in humanity,” Woojin announces. 

Jinyoung barely even glances up from his sketchbook, cross-legged on the grass. It’s three in the afternoon and the sky is brilliant blue, and in all fairness it’s as good of a time to lose faith in humanity as any, if you’re cynical and/or Woojin. 

“That’s like, the fourth time this week,” Jihoon laughs. 

Jinyoung scrutinizes a line, decides he doesn’t like it, and proceeds to vehemently erase it as best as possible without messing up the rest of the page. “Scratch that, you never had it in the first place.” 

Woojin’s expression is nothing short of direly affronted. “I’m  _ serious _ . Jihoon’s getting all the customers, and he’s wearing— well— that.” 

Jihoon tugs at his neon blazer. “Excuse me? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“It’s supposed to be a fundraiser, not a horror carnival.” 

Jihoon doesn’t even look that offended. Because again, he  _ is  _ getting all the customers. It’s the spring club fundraiser and when they’d drawn lots, Woojin and Jihoon had lost, so they’d ended up having to be the ones who ran the kissing booth. Jinyoung highly suspects the whole thing’s rigged. Jihoon’s good looks and popularity are no secret, and the club president’s also been trying to set Woojin and Jihoon up for ages. 

Jinyoung had been dragged there for moral support, but he’s hidden behind the stand, so he’s not too unhappy with arrangements. 

“ _ Kissing booth _ ,” Woojin grumbles, staring desolately at the jar in front of him during break. “What next, a maid cafe?” 

“I’d look good in a maid costume,” Jihoon says sweetly. 

“Of course you would.” Jinyoung wonders if the red spreading across Jihoon’s face is a trick of the light. “But some of us can’t pull that off, you know. Couldn’t we just— like, do a bake sale instead?” 

“None of us can bake, and there’s a ninety percent that Jaehwan would either set the entire kitchen on fire or get frosting on the ceiling,” Jihoon retorts. “Or both. Both is good.” 

Jinyoung just laughs quietly at their arguments, until Jihoon checks something on his phone and shrieks. Jinyoung messes up a line and Woojin covers his ears. 

“ _ What _ ?” Woojin demands.  

“Shit, I forgot my chem paper was due today,” Jihoon says, shoving his phone in his pocket and standing up. “Dude, Jinyoung, can you cover for me? It’ll be, like, fifteen minutes.” 

“Wait, what? Jihoon?” 

“Oh my god, Jinyoungie, you’re the best. I’ll buy you Pocky.” 

“Wait, Jihoon—” 

“Thank you so much, love you!” And with that Jihoon leaves in a blur of bad fashion and good looks, leaving Jinyoung to dumbfoundedly flip his sketchbook closed and stand up. 

“Oh my god,” Woojin says, cackling. “I’m so sorry.” 

Jinyoung stares blankly into space. “Please tell me he was joking.” 

Woojin’s hand closes around his wrist and pulls him up onto the seat that Jihoon had previously occupied. “Nah, he wasn’t.” Jinyoung sighs, burying his face in the crook of his arms. “You’ll be fine, Jinyoung. It’s just kissing for money.” 

“Ha.” 

“Actually, that does sound kind of disturbing, now that I think about it.” 

“I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to want to kiss me,” Jinyoung reasons. He’s quiet and shy and rarely ever talks. “I’m going to kill Park Jihoon.” 

“Good idea. A bloody knife does turn most people off, unless you’re into that stuff.” 

Jinyoung is wrong. A surprising amount of people come over to buy a kiss from him. ( _ There is no justice _ , Woojin declares.) Most of them are cheek or forehead kisses, which are relatively okay, and Jinyoung just pretends he’s not attached to his body for the ones on the mouth. It’s fine. It’s fine. 

And then  _ Lee Daehwi  _ walks over, and Jinyoung’s panic levels spike. 

Daehwi is— well. Jinyoung’s encountered him a couple of times. They’ve talked a few times also. And Jinyoung might like him, somewhat. 

Jihoon calls it  _ attraction, infatuation, limerence.  _ Jinyoung calls it  _ Park Jihoon is full of shit and terrible taste but may unfortunately be a little bit correct on this particular issue _ . But history aside, present-Daehwi’s sliding a twenty-dollar bill across the table, the amount required for a kiss on the mouth. 

There’s a stretch of five seconds where Jinyoung’s frantically trying to restart his brain, before Daehwi says, “Sorry.” 

Jinyoung blinks. “What?” 

“Sorry,” Daehwi says again, quieter this time, a shadow and an echo, before giving a single small nod and jogging away toward two of his friends. Jinyoung’s frozen and uncomprehending, looking at the space where Daehwi had occupied a second ago. 

He takes the twenty in front of him and quietly folds it in half, then quarters, before jamming it into the cash box. The movements are stiff and robotic. His face is blank. 

“Jinyoung?” Woojin says cautiously. Jinyoung doesn’t say anything. “That guy was a fucking asshole, you know that?” 

“Maybe he just wanted to support the art club without kissing me,” Jinyoung says, attempting to shrug. “Really, it’s fine.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“His name’s Lee Daehwi. And kind of, I guess.” 

At that moment, Jihoon comes running across the quad, sliding into the booth. “Thanks, Jinyoung,” he says, and Woojin glares at him while Jinyoung stays stuck in the seat. 

Jihoon immediately catches on. He might be an asshole at times, but he’s also remarkably perceptive, especially when it comes to the nuances of Jinyoung’s stoic facade. “Wait, Jinyoung, are you okay? You’re good, right?” 

“Some kid named Lee Daehwi gave Jinyoung a twenty and then walked off,” Woojin says. 

It’s infinitely worse because Jihoon  _ gets it _ . Woojin’s firmly connected to Jinyoung’s social circle via a dozen extroverted threads, but Jihoon is Jinyoung’s best friend and probably knows about his budding feelings for Daehwi more than Jinyoung does himself. 

“Oh,” Jihoon says. And then he leans down and gives Jinyoung a hug. 

Jinyoung attempts to squirm free. “I don’t care, seriously—” 

“I’m so sorry,” Jihoon says, calmly, gently, and then in that exact same tone adds, “Also, I’m going to fucking murder Daehwi, and then we can sell his organs to science and use the funding for the club so you don’t have to deal with this kissing booth shit again.” 

Woojin says, “Or you could’ve just turned in the paper early and not gotten Jinyoung into any of this in the first place.” 

“Park Woojin, shut the hell up.” 

\--- 

The worst part is definitely that Jinyoung had kind of been thinking that they’d had a good thing going. He and Daehwi, he means. 

Their paths tended to intersect at random times, since Jinyoung was into art and Daehwi into music, but they would reliably end up seeing each other at this little cafe called  _ 1997  _ at least once or twice per week. Jinyoung would be sitting at the table, sketching, and Daehwi would be up there playing the piano or the guitar. 

Well— at first it was random. Then Jinyoung had started going when he knew Daehwi had his slots. It might’ve just been a certain preference for coffee at 6 PM on Wednesdays. 

Shut the hell up, Jihoon. 

\---

The first time they’d met, Daehwi had been playing the piano and it’d sounded so good that Jinyoung ended up nearly spilling all of his coffee onto his sketchbook, catching the cup only just in time. 

Jinyoung isn’t the kind of person to draw people around him, but at that moment he wishes he was. It only takes a couple more bars of the song before he caves, flipping to a fresh page and pencilling out a rough approximation of a piano. He makes himself doodle some other people in the cafe first next to it, this one couple and a girl marking up her textbook, people he wouldn’t even notice in other circumstances just so he can sandwich the boy with making music in between. 

In the end, none of his efforts matter. 

“Hey.” Jinyoung looks up. Piano guy’s sliding into the seat in front of him, like Jinyoung’s wish to draw him had caused him to appear instead. Like a genie who’d been spending too much time with Jihoon and Woojin was running Jinyoung’s life. 

Which actually might not be too far off, if he thinks about it. 

But Jinyoung actually looks  _ behind  _ him anyway, just to make sure that he’s the one being addressed. “Hi?” 

Piano guy’s eyes crinkle. “I just wanted to ask, do you happen to know Hwang Minhyun?” 

Huh. Jinyoung wonders if he’s supposed to know this guy, now, since he knows that Jinyoung knows Minhyun. “Um… sort of? Not that well, but we have art club together.”

Piano guy snaps his fingers. “ _ That’s  _ where I’ve seen you before!” At Jinyoung’s dumbfounded expression, he adds, “I’m not a stalker, I swear. I was dragged to one of the art exhibitions via Jisung, and you were onstage. This was like, fall? I think?” 

Piano guy takes a sip of his drink, this whipped cream and chocolate curl monstrosity that’s probably fifty percent more sugar than caffeine. But Jinyoung remembers what piano guy’s talking about, and he feels kind of warm that he’d remember something from so long ago. Jinyoung’s usually not good with strangers but the other makes him feel like he’s got the ball in his court. 

“Yeah, that would’ve been me,” Jinyoung says. 

“Oh, good, it would’ve been awkward if it wasn’t.”

There’s this standstill of a moment where it’s up to Jinyoung if he wants to continue the conversation or let it trail off. He chooses the former, half-surprised at his own choice. 

“You’re really good,” he starts. “At music.” 

“Really? Thank you! I mean, I could say the same about your art.” 

Jinyoung’s cheeks warm. “Have I seen you here before?” 

Dear god, that sounded like a pickup line. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Jihoon’s in the back of his mind starts a psychoanalysis of whether that was subconsciously purposeful or just an awkward turn of phrase. Either way, piano guy doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Probably not, I just started coming here last week,” he says. “Friend told me about an open slot, and I was like,  _ why not _ , you know? The coffee’s really good, though.” 

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at the sugar concoction that piano guy’s currently nursing. “You sure that’s coffee?” 

Jinyoung’s  _ horrified _ . But the other just laughs and takes another sip.“ _ Touche _ . I’ll rephrase, the  _ drinks  _ are good. What about you? Do you come here often?” 

“Yeah… I come here to draw a lot? Informal doodles and stuff. The atmosphere’s nice, and usually it’s quiet…” 

“Oh, oops, did I interrupt you, then?”

“No, um, I didn’t mean it like that.”  _ Backtrack _ . “You’re fine.” 

Another voice cuts through the air from the doorway. “Hey, Daehwi, stop flirting and get your ass over here!” 

Piano guy— Daehwi?— stands up. “Coming!” He seems completely unabashed by the  _ flirting _ comment, just raises his empty cup at Jinyoung and says, “I’ll see you later, you should show me your drawings sometime.” 

He heads off toward the doorway, leaving Jinyoung alone with his half-finished sketches and lukewarm coffee. 

\--- 

Scratch that, maybe their encounters are  _ never  _ random after that first one, although that’s not even completely of his own choice. Jinyoung had been avoiding going to the cafe for a few weeks, actually, unsure of where his initial streak of boldness had come from. 

In the end, it’s the factor of Park Jihoon. 

Jinyoung makes the mistake of telling him about piano guy, because Jihoon had asked him why Jinyoung never brought him any croissants back from  _ 1997  _ anymore. 

Jinyoung throws a wadded-up piece of paper at him. “Because they’re expensive and you should get your own croissants?” 

“Because you’ve finally depleted Jinyoung’s never ending supply of generosity?” Woojin chimes in. “Because your best friend contract of second grade  _ finally  _ expires as of this April and Jinyoung’s just getting himself out of it early?” 

“Okay, first off, I didn’t ask to be attacked, and second, there’s no  _ best friend contract _ —” 

“Um,” Jinyoung starts, “you did make me sign—”  

“Oh my god. That’s so not the point here. Can’t a guy ask for croissants in peace?” 

Which, of course, because Jinyoung is  _ stupid _ , resulted in him admitting that the reason he didn’t go to  _ 1997  _ anymore was because of the off chance of seeing piano guy, which was frankly excruciating to admit because it sounded way worse out loud. 

“So let me get this straight,” Jihoon says, squinting, “you’re avoiding your caffeinated safe place because some guy started a conversation with you? And told you he liked your art? And said, see you later?” 

“Do you always have to phrase things in the most incriminating way possible?” 

“Answer the question, Jinyoungie~” 

“Yes, but like, it’s just…” 

“No, no, I get it,” Jihoon says, twirling his pencil between his fingers. “You’re scared because you’re probably thinking this one good conversation was a freak accident, as you usually rely on everyone else to make friends, and you’re  _ also  _ probably thinking that you’re going to ruin his currently good opinion of you if you talk to him any more, which, frankly, is dumb because you liked talking to him and, from what I’m hearing, he seemed to like talking to you.” 

“Who the hell let you become a psychology major.” 

“We’ve all got to be prepared for the day Jihoon takes over the world,” Woojin says solemnly from his place on the couch. “Arm yourself with anti-pink spray and Gucci.” 

“You’re going back to  _ 1997 _ ,” Jihoon says. “Or we’re not renewing the best friend contract in April, and then where would you be without me?” 

_ A better place, probably.  _ “Fine.” 

\--- 

Jinyoung does end up going back to  _ 1997 _ . Daehwi is there, not playing the piano this time, but very much  _ there _ , and he definitely seems to recognize Jinyoung if the way he waves is any indication. Jinyoung pulls out the chair across from him, unsure if that’s what Daehwi wants. 

Daehwi seems okay with it. Maybe Jinyoung should stop overthinking everything. 

“Hey,” Daehwi says, smiling. “Nice to see you again.” 

“You too.” 

“What’s your name? I didn’t ask last time, I’m sorry. That’s like, a problem I have. I never remember to ask anyone for their names.” 

“Jinyoung. Feel free to nickname me, though. It’s what everyone does.” 

“Jinyoung is fine. I’ve had to call you  _ art dude  _ in my head for the past few weeks.” 

Jinyoung’s mildly flattered that he’s got a name in Daehwi’s head in the first place. “Art dude’s not a bad name.”

“I like Jinyoung better,” Daehwi says easily, and Jinyoung wonders if the sudden spike in temperature is due to a malfunctioning air con or something way more dangerous.  “I’m Daehwi, by the way.” 

“I know,” Jinyoung says, and at Daehwi’s look of surprise— “Your friend yelled it out last time I saw you.” 

Daehwi furrows his brow before his face melts into an expression of remembrance. “Oh, yeah, that was Seungwoo. Ignore, like, basically  _ everything  _ that comes out of his mouth. I swear that his sole purpose in life is to embarrass me.” 

“Noted,” Jinyoung says, laughing. “Um, I’m going to go order now, so, be right back.” 

Daehwi nods, and Jinyoung goes up to get his coffee, and, because of Jihoon, croissants. Jinyoung comes back with his food, and after a small bit of consideration, asks Daehwi, “Do you want a croissant?” 

“Dude, seriously? Thank you,” Daehwi says, and breaks off a half. “You don’t mind?”

“They’re supposed to be for my friend, but he doesn’t deserve them.” 

“Why is that so relatable.” 

Daehwi doesn’t have any food in front of him, although a small grease-stained package indicates that he might’ve bought something a while ago to avoid being kicked out. There’s a lot of paper in front of him, actually, some of the pages crumpled up like they weren’t good enough. 

“You were right, by the way,” Daehwi says, “the atmosphere here is good.” 

Jinyoung nods. “Are you composing?”  _ Stupid _ . What else would he be doing? 

“Yeah, it’s this thing for class,” Daehwi says. “I’m, like, low key stuck. It’s supposed to be a love song, but that’s really not my turf.” 

“I can’t compose at all, if that helps.” 

“Okay, but you can  _ art _ , and like, stick figures are pushing it for me,” Daehwi laughs. “I’ve just been doodling stuff for the past half an hour.” 

He slides the paper over, and Jinyoung examines it. They’re little pencil doodles, an inch in diameter at most, hearts with lines drawn through them and speech bubbles with various interjections written in. 

“Quality drawings,” Jinyoung says, mock-solemn. “You could sell these for a grand apiece.” 

“Right, I should definitely switch majors,” Daehwi laughs. “This masterpiece series is titled  _ what the hell is music and why can’t I make it to save my life _ .” 

“You’re good at music.” 

“I  _ know  _ that, but that’s not helping right now,” Daehwi mumbles, stuffing his face into the crook of his arms. “Hey, Jinyoung, what do you think the song should be about?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Just say anything.”  

“I haven’t composed anything in my life.” 

“Fine, fine,” Daehwi sighs, leaning back and erasing another few lines. “It’s okay, you tried. F for effort.” 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes before taking out his sketchbook— he’s got an assignment due, too, and although he doesn’t regret talking to Daehwi without getting work done, his professor probably won’t share that same sentiment. He wonders if he should regret it, what he ends up drawing, a picture of crumpled paper and bars of sheet music. He tries to make frustration emanate out of the page. 

An hour later, Jinyoung looks up. Daehwi seems to have made progress, too, from the verses that spiderweb across one of the papers. 

“I should probably leave now,” Daehwi says. “Thanks for your help, Jinyoung.” 

Jinyoung’s confused. He didn’t help at all. When he gets back to his dorm, the croissants are cold and the grease has nearly completely soaked through the plastic, but the knowing tilt of Jihoon’s smile robs him of any feeling of victory. 

\--- 

After that it’s mildly disastrous, Daehwi telling him when his slots are and then Jinyoung making sure to go there every time.  _ Piano guy  _ was a misnomer— Daehwi can play the guitar, the drums, anything. If needed he could probably function as an entire band and then some, and Jinyoung’s kind of terrified about how easily Daehwi slips into his weekly routine. 

Still, Daehwi seems to exist in a separate bubble from the rest of the life. Jinyoung hasn’t seen him outside of the coffee shop, like whatever weird thing they had— Jinyoung isn’t dense enough to believe that his feelings toward Daehwi are the same as toward the rest of his friends— would cease to occur as soon as they were out of the vintage-patterned walls of  _ 1997 _ . 

Jinyoung needs to ask him something, though. 

“End-of-the-year exhibit’s coming up soon,” Jinyoung says hesitantly. “And I’m drawing like, a people-related thing for my submission, so would you be okay with featuring in it?”

“You’re going to draw me?” Daehwi asks. 

It’s not intended to sound blunt but to Jinyoung it is, how Daehwi just casually punched a hole in the carefully-woven web of words that Jinyoung had just spewed.  

“That’s the gist of it, yes.” 

“Dude, that’d be awesome,” Daehwi says excitedly. “As long as I look cool.” 

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to look cool.” 

Daehwi looks so  _ offended  _ that Jinyoung has to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from breaking poker face. Hanging out with Jihoon and Woojin forces Jinyoung to be more insulting than usual, and while Daehwi usually hasn’t been on the receiving end of any of that, Jinyoung’s been trained to take any obvious opportunity he sees. 

“I just gave you permission to draw my face and then you insult it?” 

Jinyoung finally lets himself laugh. “I’m sorry, you just—” 

“You know what, permission  _ rescinded _ , you can draw someone else.” Jinyoung’s split second of actual terror must show on his face, because Daehwi adds, “just kidding. Feel free to use me. Although now I have to diss you back sometime.” 

“I’ll be waiting for it.” 

“You better be.” 

Jinyoung sketches down the rough approximation of where Daehwi would be in his project, and Daehwi leans over, curious. “You know, you’ve never actually shown me anything in there. Can I see? Or is it, like, a private thing?” 

“Kind of,” Jinyoung says, and Daehwi nods and sits down. “By that I just mean this is all the rough-draft stuff. Kind of like if you had to show someone the first version of a song you wrote.” 

Daehwi pulls a face. “That sounds actually terrifying.” And then— “Can I see anyway?” 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Your opinion of me is going to drop real fast.” 

“It was already rock-bottom in the first place,” Daehwi says. 

His poker face isn’t nearly as good as Jinyoung’s, though, so laughter immediately escapes.  

“I’ll give you that one,” Jinyoung says, with this inexplicable  _ fondness  _ in his chest. “I walked into it.” 

And then, because he’s stupid, he hands his sketchbook over, and Daehwi flips through it. He pauses on one of the drawings, and flashes it over at Jinyoung. 

“Is this me?” he asks. 

Jinyoung looks— that could be referencing maybe two or three of the sketches in the book. The one that Daehwi’s currently on is the one Jinyoung did that first day he’d seen him, the one where Daehwi was playing the piano. 

“Yeah…” Jinyoung admits. 

“Dude, this is really good,” Daehwi says. “I don’t look that good in real life.” 

_ You look better _ . Fortunately, Jinyoung doesn’t say that one out loud, just shrugs and lets Daehwi flip through the sketchbook. The expression on Daehwi’s face is one of admiration, and Jinyoung would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel warm.

\--- 

Jinyoung stops going to  _ 1997  _ after the whole kissing booth thing. He thinks that’s a fair reaction. It’s not like he’s overly upset, just hurt, although he knows that maybe it’s a little bit unfair to Daehwi because they don’t have each other’s phone numbers and Daehwi doesn’t even get a chance to explain himself. 

In the end, it’s simple. Jinyoung doesn’t have the right to be anything beyond a little bit annoyed if it were just platonic, and the fact he  _ is _ says something. He doesn’t want to say that something to Daehwi, though, because then it’d be an admittance that Daehwi clearly didn’t reciprocate. It’s a locked cycle. 

Jihoon doesn’t yell at him for it, either, and Woojin doesn’t have a handle on the case at all, so Jinyoung’s at least socially off the hook. 

He needs to focus on the exhibit, anyway. That’s basically the biggest event for art club after the fundraiser, which he prefers not to think about, and he already told Daehwi that he was going to draw him so he’s not going to back out of it. 

\--- 

Daehwi goes to the exhibit. Of course he does. 

Jinyoung is wearing a starchy suit that chafes at the seam, but Woojin had assured him he didn’t look  _ that  _ bad in it, good, even. It’s blue, and Jinyoung has washed most of the paint off his hands, and someone had asked him for his phone number and Jinyoung had been almost tempted to give it. 

And Daehwi is standing in the gallery where Jinyoung’s drawing hangs, taking up half the wall. Jinyoung likes it, sort of, the background of it rough sketch (well— sort of rough sketch, Jinyoung had taken pains to make it look as careless but good as possible, like the art equivalent a purposeful bedhead look) and a tree in the middle with sprawling branches holding miniature 2D people. Guanlin as he makes a shot from twenty feet away. Woojin dancing in a sea of music. Himself on a branch, coloring the sky in. 

Daehwi playing a piano made out of leaves and wood.  _ The Growth of Dreams _ . 

“This is amazing,” Daehwi says softly. 

Jinyoung looks down. There’d been a dozen of other compliments today and yet it’s Daehwi that makes him believe it. “Thanks.”

“I want to make something that cool someday,” Daehwi says, “although art is very clearly your turf and not mine.” 

“Yeah. Well. Music’s yours.” 

Jinyoung’s staring at his shoes and he can tell by the other pair of sneakers that are dangerously close to his that Daehwi’s not just here to compliment his art. “Can we talk after this?” 

“We’re talking right now.” 

“... That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know.” Jinyoung knows he’s being stubborn. Maybe Daehwi will think him childish.  _ It doesn’t matter _ , he tells himself sharply. 

“I’ll leave now,” Daehwi says. “Meet me at 1997 at closing time, if you want. Again, your drawing’s really good, Jinyoung. I really can’t believe I’m part of it.” 

\--- 

Jinyoung does go after the exhibit, against every part of his mind that says that this is a bad idea. He changes out of his suit and into jeans and a sweatshirt, heads across the quad toward the coffee shop. He’s worn out and not thinking straight. Perhaps that’s a good thing for this kind of thing. 

Daehwi knows Jinyoung’s been avoiding him. Jinyoung’s lost the facade of an upper hand, even if he never had it to begin with. 

“Cake pops are overpriced,” Jinyoung says, looking at the sign for the ten percent sale. 

“They’re pretty, even if they break your wallet,” Daehwi says. And then, “I’m really sorry about the whole kissing booth thing. I know you’re mad.” 

“I’m not  _ mad _ ,” Jinyoung mumbles. He chances a look at Daehwi, who’s got his eyebrow raised. “Okay, I kind of am. But it’s dumb, it was a prank and I get that I was just—” 

He doesn’t know what word to say. It’s all dangerous territory, and he doesn’t want to go there. 

“Youngmin and Donghyun told me to do it,” Daehwi mumbles. “It wasn’t a prank, though. They legitimately wanted me to kiss you.” 

“Why?” Jinyoung asks. He knows that some of the kisses that day were dares; that makes a certain amount of sense. “They thought it’d be funny?” 

“No. They know I like you.” 

Forget dangerous territory. Jinyoung had been near the shallow waters and then Daehwi had just went ahead and plunged them both way into the deep end. “What.” 

“Don’t make me say it again,” Daehwi says, hiding his face. 

“Fine.” 

“ _ Fine _ .” 

“But then,” Jinyoung says, nails cutting crescents into his palms, “why didn’t you  _ do  _ it?” 

Daehwi’s head whips up so fast it’s not even funny. Jinyoung had trouble making eye contact before but now he doesn’t know how to look away. He wonders if anyone in the cafe can sense it, the tension that surrounds their table. 

“I chickened out, goddammit.” 

“Money’s money, and I don’t think our club does refunds,” Jinyoung offers, corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “So if you want, you could do it right now.” 

Daehwi bangs his knee up on the table and well,  _ now  _ people are probably looking. Daehwi’s face is so red it looks like a fire hydrant and Jinyoung’s pretty sure his is too, in like, miniature.  

“Are you messing with me? Please don’t tell me you’re messing with me.” 

Jinyoung shrugs. “I like you, too,” he admits. “Here’s me trying to do something about it.” 

\--- 

Here is what Jinyoung learns: 

First, kissing Daehwi is nice. Both of them aren’t completely sure how to do it, but learning’s a fun process, and there’s a certain pleasure in seeing Daehwi’s mouth all red and swollen and knowing he was the cause of that. ( _ Kinky _ , mental Woojin whispers.) Daehwi no longer has to pay for kisses, too, so he can spend his twenty-dollar bills on more necessary things, like instant ramen and black-market study guides. 

Second, Daehwi is a good boyfriend. Jinyoung hasn’t said  _ I love you  _ yet but he thinks, it’s okay, it’s not like it’s  _ The Titanic _ or some k-drama with a limited amount of episodes. The thing is that Daehwi knows how to wield sarcasm as well as Jihoon or Woojin or anyone of their caliber, but at the same time, he’s very straightforward with his feelings. Maybe Jinyoung needs that. There’s little room for doubt that way. 

Third— 

“Jinyoung, teach me your ways,” Jihoon grumbles, head on his arms. “Hypothetically, how do you get someone to  _ notice  _ you? Because they’re a hypothetical asshole who doesn’t understand  _ anything _ ?” 

“Jihoon—” 

“Is it my glasses? Like, hypothetically?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with your glasses,” Jinyoung says feebly. 

“ _ Then what _ ?” 

“You could tell Woojin, you know.” 

“That’s admitting defeat, Jinyoung, god, you don’t understand anything.” 

“Right.” 

“And it’s not about Woojin, you ass,” Jihoon stutters, chucking a pillow at him and returning to his homework with a poor attempt at a disturbed expression. Jinyoung rolls his eyes. He doesn’t get how someone as smart as Jihoon could be so stupid all at once. But it’s fine. Jihoon has time, too. 

His phone buzzes. Daehwi. 

_ what is your opinion on glitter pasta sauce  _

Jinyoung texts back,  _ sounds like smth from a red velvet mv.  _

_ omg ur so right this is why i like u  _

And Jinyoung thinks,  _ this is why I like you too _ . 


End file.
